


A Suit by Any Other Name

by Asylos



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Humor, Suits, Turks (Compilation of FFVII)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:07:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25650352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asylos/pseuds/Asylos
Summary: A gift for Yataaa in the FF7Central Fandom Exchange. Prompt: The Turk's new outfits look pretty slick. Maybe a look into each member's thought process behind their customizations or a day in the life of the poor tailors and seamstresses that have to modify the suits (looking at you, Reno).
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17
Collections: FF7 Fanworks Exchange '20





	A Suit by Any Other Name

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yataaa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yataaa/gifts).



“Wilshire, are you sure this is correct?”

The scrawny assistant leaned over and reviewed the note he had scrawled and nodded, “Yes Mr. Jupiter, Sir. That’s what he said.”

Jupiter pulled his glasses from his nose and rubbed them on the tail of his suit jacket nervously before putting them back on, more smudged than when he’d started cleaning them. “Oh dear. As if managing the Vice President’s wardrobe wasn’t stressful enough, now he’s sending his..” his voice dropped to a whisper, “people.”

“His people?” Wilshire asked quizzically. 

“The Turks,” Jupiter hissed, leaning in close, then straightening up like a snapped twig. “Now, how is progress on the Vice President’s new suit anyway?” 

“Very good, Sir, I’m just not sure where all of these straps go to?” Wilshire held up the collection of white belts that hung from the garment. 

“Well, they don’t really /go/ anywhere, they’re just sort of .. there.”

“Oh. Well, I think it’s done then, Sir.”

“Good good. Hang it up in the back then and let’s tidy up for our next appointment.”

It was several hours before the little bell over the shop door twinkled to announce that someone was entering the shop. Wilshire headed out to the front, and Jupiter heard him asking if the lady was picking up a suit for her father, or perhaps husband. Then Jupiter heard a loud thump which he could only assume was Wilshire hitting the floor, or the wall, or some other surface. Clearly Miss Elena had arrived. Jupiter smoothed down his suit jacket and went out to greet her. 

“Good afternoon, Miss Elena. Do come back to the fitting room.” He gestured to the back and she stepped over Wilshire’s groaning body to the directed room. By the time he had completed taking her measurements, Wilshire had managed to rouse himself and slunk back to the small kitchenette to find a cold pack to press against his bruising forehead. 

Once Elena had been escorted back out, Jupiter found Wilshire and peered in on him. “Feeling better?”

“She hits quite hard.”

“Indeed. It’s best not to make assumptions when someone walks through our door. Especially when we’re expecting that kind of special guest. There will be more before the week is out.”

“More like her?” Wilshire asked, face pale.

Jupiter chuckled, “They’re all different. To be honest, I think the Vice President sent us his easiest case first. She just wants a very simple and quite normal suit.“

“Is it too late to take the rest of the week off?”

“Absolutely.”

When Elena arrived the next day to pick up her new suit, Wilshire was on his best behaviour. With a quiet whimper he fetched the suit, safely enclosed in a shop bag, and handed it to her at an arm’s length. She left without a word, leaving her male companion behind. 

He was a tall man with a shaved head, imposing behind sunglasses that he continued to wear even in the dim light of the shop. 

“Your name, Sir?” Wilshire asked. 

“Rude.”

“I beg your pardon?” Wilshire started to tremble a bit, examining everything he’d said, trying to figure out how he’d possibly been rude to the man in their short interaction. Had Elena told others about yesterday? Was that it? Had she sent him to seek further revenge?

“My name. It’s Rude.”

“Oh!” His shoulders practically sagged as the tension left them. “Right! This way, Sir. I’ll get your measurements.” He followed the man into the fitting room and gestured him up onto the platform. “Could you take off your jacket?” He caught the tossed garment and set it on the edge of the platform before climbing up onto it with measuring tape in hand. He was just about finished with the measurements when he heard a soft crunch and looked down to see he had stepped on Rude’s jacket. He glanced up at the Turk and the man tapped the edge of his glasses. “Oh dear.”

Rude stepped off the platform with a sigh and picked up his jacket, shaking out the bits of plastic from his crushed shades, shaking his head all the while. He spotted Jupiter leaning in the doorframe. “Pockets, reinforced pockets, lots of them.”

“We can absolutely do that, right this way,” Jupiter said, stepping aside to escort Rude through the door and snatching the measurement sheet from Wilshire.

The next day Rude arrived with a man with long dark hair. Jupiter gave a deep bow and took the new arrival into the fitting room while Wilshire gave Rude a tour of his new suit, and all of its new pockets. He put a pair of his own glasses into one of the pockets and proudly demonstrated the durability of their special protective pockets. While he didn’t manage a smile from the Turk, Wilshire felt satisfied that they had fulfilled the man’s request adequately.

Jupiter was returning from the back just as Rude was leaving, and Wilshire went to meet him. “Please fetch the Vice President’s suit, Tseng will take it with him,” Jupiter said. Wilshire nodded and hurried to fetch the suit bag while his employer spoke in hushed tones with Tseng. Once the man had left Jupiter collapsed against the small fridge, pulling out a bottle of the strongest spirits he stored within. 

“What’s wrong?” Wilshire asked, his voice wavering with concern.

“Tomorrow,” Jupiter said, “tomorrow is our last of the Turks we will be tailoring. Tseng wanted to come personally to warn me, as he has long been a loyal customer.” Jupiter held out a glass to Wilshire, and they both drowned them before locking up for the night.

“Brighten up, fellas, you could cut the gloom in here with a knife!” 

Both Wilshire and Jupiter turned towards the source of the bright, cheerful voice. The shock of red hair that met their eyes was as surprising as the cheer, especially for such an early hour. They hadn’t even opened yet, and in fact, Wilshire was quite sure he hadn’t unlocked the door. The red hair led down in a tail to a disheveled suit that made the hairs on the back of their necks bristle at the very sight of it. Surely there was some mistake and a vagrant had wandered in off the street in search of the washroom or some such. “May we help you?”

The man sauntered in, or maybe it was more of a swagger. It was difficult to tell when there was only a few steps from the door to the nearest counter which he then leaned against. “You sure can! I’m here for my appointment.”

“Your… ah, yes,” Jupiter said, smoothing down his jacket and stepping forward to extend a proper welcome. “Please do come in.”

“Now that’s more like it,” the redhead said, moving further into the store.

“Our apologies, Mr. Reno. We weren’t expecting you quite so early.”

“I’m a very busy fella, I don’t have time to wait for you to be ready, when you were already told I would be here.”

Wilshire practically wilted under the glare from the Turk, his dry swallow audible in the silence that followed. Jupiter, however, was built of much sterner stuff, having been in the business his whole life, and simply nodded. “Of course. Would you like to step back to the fitting room?”

Reno shook his head and reached into his jacket, causing poor Wilshire to flinch back. He pulled out a collection of papers that seemed shoved together at odd angles. “No need! I’ve got everything you need right here.” He stepped up to the counter and spread out the sheets. 

Jupiter leaned in to look them over. They were a series of sketches, surprisingly good ones considering they seemed to be done in cheap crayon, and were clearly of Reno going by the hair. A very non-traditional suit had been drawn on to the figure, laid out with measurements, even labels for colours and other features. Ignoring the stained paper and unprofessional materials, they were on par with the instructions they would receive from a top end client or another tailor. 

“All these measurements are correct?” Wilshire asked, and then curled as far in on himself as he could at the looks he received from both his employer and their customer. “Yes, of course. I’ll get started on this.” He reached out with a trembling hand and collected the sketches. 

Reno grinned at him, and then at Jupiter, “Right, all set then. See you tomorrow! Bright and early, yeah? Gotta be all dolled up for the big event. And, uh, you might want to pack up the shop after that and take a nice vacation out of the sector. Just between you and me.”


End file.
